


there is another sky

by the_oreo



Category: Firefly, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bad Attempts at Comedy - Freeform, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Its Literally Been Years Sorry, M/M, Star Trek: AOS, space, wow this is old
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-18 07:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3561392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_oreo/pseuds/the_oreo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise is celebrating the completion on one of five years in deep space - when they encounter a colony of humans in a place they shouldn't exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue: in which Bones McCoy has been Done™ with Jim Kirk and all his shit for years

_There is another sky,_

_Ever serene and fair,_

_And there is another sunshine,_

_Though it be darkness there..._

 

* * *

Prologue | Leonard

* * *

 

Space. The unknown. The void. All of it teeming with brightness of a thousand cities and yet light years beyond the reach of one's fingers. The barren darkness contrasted with the light whose every brilliant flicker spoke of possibility.  An ocean of wandering stars with storms of vibrant nebulas painted across the sky, and the feeling of both feeling no larger than a grain of sand on an infinite beach and feeling like the cosmos themselves for simply being a part of something so vast. Something improbable, incomprehensible and by every means impossible. The consuming whole that promised both life and death in concert to anyone who dared to pluck its strings. The promise of nothing and forever; darkness and silence.

_I think I'm going to puke._

Doctor McCoy liked the med bay for two reasons: One, because anyone who set foot in here had to do exactly what he said (Jim) and two, there are no windows. Windows meant Space, and Space meant death and he wanted to be as far away from death as possible, unlike some people (Jim), thank you very much. Of course, because the universe had chosen to love him of all people, the moronic, suicidal captain in charge of this mission (Jim) made sure McCoy was out of the med bay by 0532 every morning. And since this day was the first anniversary of said mission, the captain was dragging his ass down to an alien planet for the party.

Fantastic.

It didn't matter how many times he'd told Jim about the dangers of space, let alone the dangers of alien planets in space, let alone the diseases that could possibly be on those planets; diseases that could possibly be brought on to the Enterprise if some unlucky person were to pick it up, in which case everyone else would pick it up and die a terrible bloody death and never see Earth again. No, no, that doesn't matter when there's an  _adventure_ to be had!

_James T. Kirk. That lousy, farm-bred, son of a-_

His communicator buzzed right at that moment. It rattled the table slightly.

"Bones, the landing party leaves in ten minutes."

Speak of the devil.

"Bones, are you there?"

Leonard picked the device off the table and opened it.

"I wish I wasn't."

He practically heard Jim smirk over the comm. 

"Oh come on Bones. It'll be an adventure!"

_Here we go again._

_Five years in space! Come on Bones, it'll be fun. An adventure!_

_It'll be good for you._

McCoy lodged the communicator between his ear and shoulder so he could finish prepping his med case. He felt no guilt when he picked up a clean hypospray and packed it in next to several vaccinations.

"Oh yeah," He responded, searching for his container of plant based acids, "An adventure, I'm sure of it. Like the Aurora?" _Damn space hippies._

Jim sighed. "Just be there Bones. Kirk out."

Well he didn't really have a choice does he?

Leonard checked his kit for a final time. The planet was mostly dry, so that meant any plant life was scarce, and probably had developed some sort of bizarre, strange, terrifying way to protect itself, and any life form would have developed itself around those bizarre, strange, terrifying things. So besides standard first aid, an extra scanner and some general vaccines against various venoms would be a smart thing to have, which he did. About twenty of them. But of course, since Kirk was a walking catastrophe waiting to happen, he doubted it would be enough. Though it was enough to fill the case.

_Damn. No room for the extra scanner._

He’d even ordered the plus size medpacs. _Aw, to hell with it._ He didn’t want to reorganize the whole damn thing. He clicked the silver case closed and made his way to the shuttle hangar, shoving the small device in his pocket.

He would have liked to think he'd prepared enough, and to some extent he had, but McCoy knew the universe didn’t like him that much. They were getting weird readings from that planet. Readings that none of them, not even Spock really understood. What Spock did say was that they were on frequencies used on Earth a few hundred years ago. That meant not only was something alive down there, it might know that the Enterprise was alive out here.

_Why I agree to these things is beyond me._

_We are all going to die._

_Damn it, Jim._

 

 


	2. in which Mal and Wash may save the day yet again with their dangerous amounts of sass (and Bones McCoy is, impressively, more Done™ than before)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WOW IT'S LITERALLY BEEN YEARS ENJOY

* * *

 Mal

* * *

 

 

"Damn it, Mal!"

Incredible, the timing of it was. Truly. "Wash, now is _not_ the time."

"Then when is the time?" Mal's pilot gave him a pointed look, ginger eyebrows raised high.

Mal sighed. Always decided to get difficult at the worst times.  "A time...that's not now." He hissed.

Something blunt, he suspected a gun, jammed between his shoulder blades and he winced. Mal should have liked to remind Wash that, when one is taken hostage, one is considerate enough not to make too much noise so the person holding you hostage is considerate enough not to put a bullet through your head.

The unsavory breaths of the gunman reached his ears, and unfortunately his nose, "Ya'll just need to be real quiet, ya hear?"

Scruffy, as Mal had deemed him, was well learnt with that gun of his since it was probably the only thing Scruffy was learnt with. He would have said the same for the rest of the gang, but Mal thought that's exactly what the magistrate was thinking - _these uncultured criminals, that’s what they are Mr. Reynolds_ \- right before he promptly shat his pants and was shot through the chest. Then those _uncultured criminals_ proceeded to keelhaul the whole planet on its’ head.

“Now if we’re supposed to be quiet, how can you ask us a question and expect an answer? Riddle me _that_ mister big scary man.”

Good lord.

“Wash.” Mal gritted his teeth and rammed his elbow into Wash’s nearest rib, who let out an offended and sensitive _ow!_ while Mal gave Scruffy a winning grin. “I’ll keep his manners in check, you can count on me.”

The gunman rolled his eyes and lumbered back to the larger group, leaving Mal and Wash somewhat alone.

Wash cursed under his breath and glared at Mal. "Every time I go along with you, something like this happens!" Wash hissed, "You're a walking catastrophe...magnet!"

"Oh, I'm the catastrophe magnet? " Mal snapped, "You said you could fix their ships so they could get outta here. I _trusted_ you to get the job done. Not go all shèn jīng bì- ouch!" There was a sharp pain in his skull as someone hit him over the head with a can.

"I said, quiet."

Mal turned over his shoulder, “Did you _throw_ that at me from over there?”

A trigger cocked in response, with a soft _click_.

“Okay, okay fine,” Mal said, “No talky. Got it, for real this time.”

Wash let out a soft _ha, karma_ under his breath, like it this all wasn’t his fault in the first place. In hindsight, did Mal really think he could have expected different from Wash? He should have known that sooner or later, Wash would fly off the handle _again_ . That he would make a scene _again_. That Mal would have to rely on himself _again_ to get them out of a mess he actively _tried to avoid._

_Serenity_ didn’t even know they're here. He and Wash should still have been at the governor's house, having dinner of all quaint things.

And, because of that he had lost his coat. _His coat._ It was still hanging on the back of some chair in the dining room. They had also lost all hope of seeing their cargo, which they needed for their job to make money to survive and buy things, after Wash had “fixed” their ships in return for it’s safety.  Not to mention their rendezvous. As soon as he’d heard the distress call, Arvindale turned and bolted. Safe to say he wasn’t interested anymore. To top it off, Mal's arms were starting to fall asleep from holding them up so long.

He took a quick look around the dusty and dim warehouse. There were quite a few civilian hostages. Mostly to keep the Alliance off the usurper's backs, he imagined. It’s not like anyone would have had anything too valuable in this hell hole.

As far as the supplies, anything advantageous seemed too far out of their reach. There were some plastic drums in the corner that were either fuel or water since they had been left unmarked, so Mal didn’t want to bank on either.

The door was thrown open, and light flooded the room. Mal turned away, the day sharp against his eyes. The tin walls creaked, and the wind howled outside as a few more hostages were lead in with the dust and forced to their knees. Mal could hear the scuffle as one of them tried to resist and the _ompf_ that followed it when the handler hit them.

" _Jim._ "

"Now I'll take no more lip from ya, goldie, unless it be that you're not wantin' them no more. One of the services we provide here."

Mal could make out a young man in the dim, in his thirties or so, glaring hostile at the handler. The latter laughed at his own sad excuse for a joke and kicked the young man in the stomach for good measure.

The kid was already covered in a mix of dust and bruises, but his blonde hair was exceptionally unmussed. Then Mal noticed that his shirt was undeniably gold (but really? _Goldie?_ Mal, if anyone, was the authority on nicknames in this part of the system, if not the whole damn ‘Verse). His pals wore some weird colors too. Deep blue and dark crimson. The shirts also had some sort of silver badge on the right chest, and some had a holster around the waistline.

They looked an awful lot like uniforms, and the former governor was the only cat fat enough around here to hire a detail. If they really were guards, he could only assume they had gotten wind of the plot and cleared out. They probably couldn’t expect any help from that sorry lot. Any hired muscle in their right minds would book it out of here as soon as possible. 

However, since this all had gone south that meant they’d be out of a job. Maybe help wouldn’t be given, but it could be bought.

_Focus Mal. You’re getting ahead of it all._

_What's with that guy's ears?_  

The door slammed shut again, and it was hard to see anymore. The commotion followed the light out and all was still.

Mal sighed. As far as catastrophes go, this was certainly out of the park.

In the quiet, he heard the coup leaders whispering behind him. He would have focused in on their conversation, learned all their secrets and in turn saved the day for all - ending with the mining community thanking him generously for his heroic heroism, he was sure sure - if Wash was also not muttering a stream of curses under his breath at the same time. Expecting Wash to stay quiet was like expecting a lecture from Jayne on the immorality of theft. Not likely. 

"Can't believe this..." Wash murmured dejectedly, "I just bought this shirt - hey!"

Mal hit him with the corner of his raised elbow and flicked his gaze behind them, hoping Wash would understand his meaning. The pilot opened his mouth and was about to start what Mal knew would be a thorough report on the state of his new palm tree print shirt (the other one with the palm trees got sucked into a shuttle turbine), but closed it quickly when he caught on. Mal thanked whoever was listening for that one.

The voices were clearer then, "...big ship, Lonnie. Real big. Like nothin' I ain't seen before."

"You mean it's Alliance?" A woman’s voice. 

"Can't be no other."

A third voice joined the other two. "Well they ain't tryin'a call us yet. D'ya think they just gonna fire at us?"

"Naw," the first voice drawled, "They won't touch us long as we got them hostages. Bad for image if any of them get killed."

Well that’s shit for these upstarts. Mal knew the Alliance cared less about image than the average man might think. 

“Do you think they’re gonna cut us _any_ considerin’ the fact that you’ve already offed the gov’ner?” 

The group continued to argue amongst themselves. Wash met Mal's eye and lipped at him, _What are we going to do?_

_I don't know yet,_ he mouthed back.

Mal breathed deeply and got a serving of dust in return. It was getting thick. How could anyone even see in here? Mal didn’t even think he could make out his own two hands in front of him if they weren’t held above his head. Maybe if he could tell whether it was fuel or water in those drums it could help him out a bit, but what little light was being let into the warehouse via the ceiling was being blocked by the rope net of supplies hanging right above them.

_Ah._

Mal turned his head slightly towards Wash, careful not to breathe too heavy. "Did you do anythin' serious to their ships?"

" _No._ " Wash looked flustered and rolled his eyes. "I just recalibrated their flight stabilizers. Had to shut their systems down. I mean, if I would’a known..." Wash chewed on his words for a second. "It should start up again in about a minute."

Mal smirked.

"So when those ships recalibrate, this is what I need you to do."

 

* * *

 Jim

* * *

 

He should have known this planet was trouble from the beginning, since it took one to know one. Bones had long since pointed out that Jim was a reliable exception to that rule.

Scotty had said they would be beamed down near a transmission origin he had found, not too close but close enough to observe any Extraterrestrial goings on.

If by "relatively near" he meant right next to it, in the _center of town_ , then he got Distinguished Crewman of the Week. If he meant right in the middle of a firefight then he got it for the whole month. Jim would be happy to award him the honor once they got out of this mess. However, they had presently been disarmed, taken hostage, and thrown into a grimy storage facility that appeared only good enough to store sand. That was the least of his problems at the moment because there was a high probability Bones would kill him before their captors did. Since Bones hadn’t actually tried yet, he figured today was going pretty well. 

"Captain?" 

Jim Kirk smiled. "I believe they said no talking, Mr. Spock." 

The Vulcan quirked the usual eyebrow. "Of all the times you have had the opportunity to follow orders, I believe this particular occasion would be the most inopportune one to do so."

Bones let out an exasperated sigh. "Of course I’m stuck on this Godforsaken dustball with the two biggest smartasses in the universe." 

"As a medical man, doctor, I believe you of all people would know my rear does not posses sentient capabilities."

"When I get my hands on my med kit I swear to _God_ -"

Jim tsked them both. "Play nice." He usually enjoyed seeing Spock get a rise out of Bones, and vice versa, but they could go for minutes if not hours on end. Considering the situation, it was best to cut them off now. 

The man that lead them in was too busy talking to his friends to notice the commotion, which was weird considering how enthusiastic he was about keeping Jim quiet. Something big must have come up. 

He could guess that it was pretty big. Starfleet flagship kind of big. 

Pulling the bleeding corner of his lip into his mouth, Jim attempted to survey the room.  Damn, it was hard to see in here. There were about two ships a few yards ahead, but the term “ship” was gracious. The crafts were hardly big enough to qualify as a shuttle and Jim was pretty sure one would fall apart before he could even get it started. He wasn’t even sure if he could get there before someone caught him. The dense gravity of the planet weighed him heavy in his shoes; if he started running he wasn’t sure he could keep it up for long, let alone defend himself. 

Maybe Spock could pull it off, but he’s Spock. He could pull off dried super glue like it was a band-aid. The rest of them would have trouble competing. 

That said, since they had lost contact with the _Enterprise_ , those ships were their best chance of getting off this rock without his crew coming down here, with big ships (with phasers) to find them, which would end in a situation Spock would call _undiplomatic._

Jim could only see about three bad guys from here, but there was a good deal of shuffling from the back of the warehouse to indicate there were more. Various supply cases and cargo were strewn across the warehouse, and some more hung in a rope net above them. The barrels to his left smelled like they contained some kind of fuel. They were stacked on their sides and he noted they were being held up by some old ropes and a sort of lever mechanism. A lever mechanism that could be undone by a kick or two.

Other than the hostages around them, Jim noticed there were two men being held separate, closer to the ships: one with brown hair and suspenders, another with light ginger hair and a very festive tropical shirt, whom he had dubbed _Suspenders_ and _Tropicana_ , respectively. They were talking quietly, hurriedly to each other until a very burly man came and pistol-whipped Suspenders upside the head. If anything were to...very suddenly happen, Jim liked to think the two might be their allies.  

Jim leaned over to his first officer. "Spock, did you see where they took our phasers?"

Spock trained his eyes on the nearest criminal. "Unfortunately, I did not." Though a subtle gesture, Jim saw him focus harder, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I believe it would be best to assume that they have either taken the weapons for themselves, due to the superiority of our technology over theirs, or have discarded them for the same reason. But Captain." Spock turned to Kirk. "Despite that our attention is required on the present situation -"

"It sure as hell is." Bones grumbled. 

So it’s that time of day. “Bones.”

" - I believe that this species's fluency in Earth languages should not be ignored."

"You're right," Jim admitted, "But yeah, we really need to get out of this mess first, and since we can understand them this time that gives us a leg up."

"Captain, I believe you misunderstood me," Spock said, "The location of this civilization would imply that any life form found here would be ancient; far older than any species presently part of the Federation or other known governments."

"Most of the species we've come across speak some sort of standard though, don't they?" Bones asked. "Even the Klingons know standard."

"Yes Doctor, I am aware." Spock slighted his head away and focused on the gang leader, "They are speaking in a mixture of what I believe to be both English and Mandarin, though Lieutenant Uhura would know better. Mandarin has not been spoken commonly on Earth since the end of the Eugenics Wars, and the use of the language has further ceased with the continued mixture of human ethnicities. However, it _is_ close enough to standard to be understood, so I can hardly imagine it to be the whole conclusion."

"Well, I've been able to conclude you're a walking data PADD," Bones muttered.

Spock didn’t miss a beat. "The only conclusion I can offer is that this species originated on Earth."

There was a pause. Jim knew Spock expected a response, but he let Bones handle it, since it was indeed a lot to handle.

"Damn it, I'm a doctor not an anthropologist," Bones whispered. "You're saying they're _human_?"

"I said, quiet."

Jim looked up, expecting the a guard to put a foot in his stomach again, but saw Suspenders rubbing his head in pain. The man looked almost offended. “Did you _throw_ that at me from over there?” 

Their guard raised a gun at the two, and it made a strange clicking noise, one Jim was unfamiliar with. It seemed threatening enough, though. 

“Okay, okay fine,” Suspenders said, “No talky. Got it, for real this time.” 

Jim gave Bones a look. They needed to be quiet, and Jim needed to _do something_. The doctor rolled his eyes, indicating he understood.

"You still have your scanner, right?" Jim whispered. 

Bones sighed, "Yeah, it didn’t fit in the med kit." He nodded in the direction of the vehicles. "Which they took."

"Were something to...happen, all of the sudden, would you be able to get a reading on any of the people here?"

"Happen, Captain?" Spock interjected, his lips twitching in a subtle way that Jim has learned to interpret as a smile.

Jim smirked back, "Do you think that we'd be able to use their weapons?" 

"From what I can deduce, there are no physiologically specific qualifications required to use them. Though Captain," Spock always had something to add, "I believe your usual ‘come out shooting’ method, as you put it, would only service our demise. I assume you have an alternate plan?"

"I assume he better if he wants his physical to go smoothly this month."

Jim tasted dread in his mouth. Bones could come up with the most unholy reasons to give him more vaccines.

"Well, it’s more than I usually have,” Jim said, “The set of barrels over there smell like there's fuel in them. It's being held up by some pretty sorry ass ropes, and if I got the chance could probably dislodge them and raise hell. Then we could get the hostages out and use the fuel to torch the place."

Bones grimaced. “Jim, I’ll be the first to tell you how horrible this is, but ‘torch the place?'”

He was interrupted by a soft, rapid beeping noise coming from one of the ships. The gang must be planning on leaving soon. They had to act fast. “Ok, ok, no torching.” Jim looked back at Spock. "I just need you to give me that chance."

Suddenly, Suspenders stood up and shoved himself backwards into the guard behind him, sending the latter into a flight craft with a loud metallic thud. He elbowed the guard in the stomach and when the guard tried to shoot, Suspenders redirected his arm upwards towards a supply net on the ceiling. 

The projectile, which seemed to be a _real bullet_ , cut through a corner of the net and toppled mountains of supplies onto two unlucky criminals. Suspenders yanked on the gun arm of the guard, throwing him over his shoulder and onto the ground and snatching a gun from his hand in the process. He let out an ungodly yell before charging the others.

Jim shrugged. “Or that works too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hyeeeyyyyy y'alll  
> haha  
> anyway i still haven't figured out the space so tell me if you think it should be smaller.


	3. in which every Starfleet officer is trained in diplomacy, but Hikaru Sulu may or may not want to test that out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> look at that i updated
> 
> also i love sulu

* * *

 Hikaru

* * *

 

 

This wasn't part of the plan.

Though when serving under Captain Kirk, things going according to plan was something Sulu thought impossible.

He slid his hand over the com panel, pressing down on the button labeled _Eng._ "Mr. Scott, do we have any info on the landing party yet?"

"I've got nothin' yet, Sulu, but you'll be the first to know if I do." Worry stained Scotty's voice. "I’ve got every available man working on this transporter. Scott out."

_Right._ Sulu looked up and around the bridge, unsettled. Things were busy and everyone was doing their duty, just as was expected of them. Developments were being made in communications and engineering, a shuttle crew was preparing for a rescue mission if necessary. All were reacting appropriately and efficiently to the emergency.

And Sulu had no more orders to give.

If he sent another away team down, they’d be stuck in the same situation as the Captain and his team were now, not to mention more crew members would be in possible danger, which was likely. What few members of the crew who weren’t working on the sensors and the transporters had been assigned to transmissions and communications, headed by Uhura.

She’d said their script was one of the strangest she’d ever seen; kind of a Sino-Tibetan _Germanic,_ if that was even possible. If anyone could figure it out it was her. They’d been having problems logging it all since it was on low radio frequency for the most part. Nothing out here even came close to the subspace frequency used in the Federation. It was really a mess more than anything else. A mess that left him wondering why the Captain always insisted on beaming down with almost every commanding officer on board. Which admittedly happened more often than it should. 

Sulu’s fingers itched to do something of use. He held up a hand, expectantly. "Yeoman Rand, can I see the assessment again?"

"Sure thing, sir." She placed a tablet into his hand, chipper as ever. This was the fourth time he’d looked at it, but the letters hadn’t changed.

 

 

> **UNKNOWN TERRESTRIAL PLANET**
> 
> **DESIGNATION:** CD3A
> 
> **CLASS:** L
> 
> **DENSITY:** 6.80 g/cm3
> 
> **ATMOSPHERE:** 98.04 kPa, 80.067% N, 17.673% O2, 2.260% Other [READ MORE]
> 
> **FEATURES OF SIGNIFICANCE:** Apparent desert-like areas and small mountain ranges. No evidence of naturally running water or precipitation, but there are deep parallel canyons in the land. Due to the young age of the surface and strange shape, it is possible they are unnatural features and could be evidence for past or present mining.
> 
> **HABITATED:** Inconclusive.
> 
> **ADDITIONAL COMMENTS:** Scans of the planet have been wholly unhelpful. Speculation is that, due to the relatively high density of the planet, the metal core may be what's interfering with the scanners [See _Manual of Life-Detection Technologies,_ _Constitution Class Starship, 2218-2219: Appendix C: Significant Malfunctions_ ]. Evidence is more conclusive for past than present life, similar to Mars. If any intelligent life is currently present, the high abundance of iron may be an explanation for interest in the planet.
> 
> **[READ MORE] **
> 
> **SUBMITTED 2261.49, 0900 HOURS, COMMANDER SPOCK, U.S.S. ENTERPRISE**

 

It went on to summarize the similarity of the wavelength signatures to pre-terra prime, their absence of wormhole technology and something about chatter eventually suggesting the habitation of the entire system. There were some useful and  _extensive_ conclusions - which Commander Spock always drew - but since yesterday no more had been made.

And until more were made, it was likely that they wouldn’t be hearing from the landing party for a while. Ironically, they’d chosen this planet out of all of them because it would be _“quiet”_ and _“safe.”_ A gentle introduction to the possible civilization here. High oxygen content and no activity; they would be unlikely to make a disturbance to any ETI and no crew would be endangered. Sulu remembered that meeting well.

_“All right, we’ll go with this world. CD3A. Though I still think-”_

_“It is my superior medical opinion that we should never, ever-_

_“Bones.”_

_“...That we should_ refrain _from embarking on tropical planets without guides or a proper medical team. CD3A poses the least risk.”_  

For such capable individuals, their commanding officers were very capable of acting like children. Sulu’s learned not to underestimate his superior officers, but the phrase "no evidence of naturally running water" stuck in his mind. Then there was this “habitation of the whole system” thing. It was a very interesting system to say the least. So far as they knew, it had at least four suns and over forty planets. Quite a few were residing in the habitable areas of their stars. The Commander had flagged about thirty planets for habitation. Which was _a lot,_ jargon aside.  It would be unprecedented. Even more so if it was all by the same species. What kind of technology would these species even possess? Had they ever heard of the Federation? Would they interpret all this as diplomacy, hostility, a mixture of both?

He rubbed his thumb back and forth over the edge of the chair's arm, resisting the urge to press his fingertips to his forehead. He would've been lying if he said he never wanted to captain a ship of his own one day. But, some days, he thought he’d be a little less stressed if he still worked down in shuttle maintenance.

_Rule number one, Mr. Sulu: you always know what you're doing, even when you don't._

Captain Kirk had said that after a very eventful day for them all.

It was a mission a lot like this one. Creating new star maps and surveying planets, the usual. Aboard the _Enterprise_ at least. Basically, they were chased by a giant rainbow cube across hundreds of parsecs, and just when they thought they had shaken it, what Sulu could only describe as a giant ball of suspended cereal appeared and demanded the entire crew come aboard said ball of cereal, lest they be destroyed.

The Captain had sat in his chair with a cup of coffee, as if he was in a class he’d already taken in high school, affirming to the alien threat that were they to fire not only would the _Enterprise_ be destroyed but surely they would be as well. Every Federation starship was outfitted with a substance that, when fired upon, would obliterate anything within ten parsecs into nothing more than dust. No one dared fire upon a Federation ship because they knew this very fact. Hikaru can’t even remember what he’d called it, it was colgate or corobite or something, but he was eighty percent sure it didn’t exist. Fifteen minutes later they had set up a “cultural exchange” with a very lonely and maniacal alien.

Kirk ordered Beta shift on an hour early that day. He and Sulu were the last ones off the bridge. The Captain walked with what Sulu could only call a strut. Arms out and about, away from his body and his chest puffed out as far as his nose. Not that he was the kind of captain that didn’t care about his crew more than his ego, but it was pretty common knowledge that this was how Kirk just _existed_. Whether he entered a palace, a cafeteria or the same turbolift as Sulu, this never changed.

_“Hey Sulu, where you headed to?”_

_“Down to Engineering_ ,” he’d said. He wanted to discuss the stress on the warp core during the chase today with Mr. Scott.

He watched Kirk direct the lift to Engineering.

_“You too, sir?”_

_“Nah.”_

_“I can wait-”_

_“What, so eager to put me back to work?” He laughed. “It’s fine, Sulu.”_

He’d expected Kirk to ask him what he’s going there for, about the replicator spitting out orange juice instead of coffee this morning, or maybe if he’d gotten the new saber he’d been eyeing but, surprisingly, Kirk had let his shoulders fall into a slump. He’d put his back up to the wall and sighed. The kind parents do when a child tracks mud into the living room after it’d just been cleaned. The kind Doctor McCoy seems equipped with at all times.  

_“Rule number one, Mr. Sulu: you always know what you're doing, even when you don't.”_

He closed his eyes then, and Sulu let silence fill the space between them.

_“We’re almost there.”_

Kirk peeked one eye open. _“Hm.”_ Using his shoulders to push off the wall, he folded his hands behind his back. _“Going to see Scotty?”_

Hikaru nodded. _“Just want to ask how much all this sprinting around wore down the core. I’d like to know our limit before the next shift.”_

_“Yeah.”_ The Captain smiled.  _“She’s a trooper, that’s for sure. But it’s good to see you care about ‘er.”_ He breathed in and assumed the stance they were all used to, just as the lift doors opened and they were face to face with a pair of Ensigns.

_“See you on the bridge, Mr. Sulu! Oh, and tell me if you get that new collapsible sword, yeah? It’d be cool to see you try it out. Good evening, Ensigns. Is is evening? I don’t know, hard to tell in space. Leslie and…no don’t tell me. Atkins? Good! How’s the impulse enhancement going on the shuttles? I remember Scotty telling me-”_  

“Captain Sulu, we’ve got an incoming object. ETA fifteen minutes.”

Right. Captain. Emergency.

Lt. Darwin continued, “It’s not coming at warp, but it is coming fast.” She turned back to look at him. “I’m not sure we could reach that speed without using the core.”

“What kind of object?” Sulu asked.

“Probably a ship. It’s big,” Uhura chided from her station, “Very big. It’s bigger than us.” She adjusted her headset a touch. “I think they’re trying to communicate with the planet. They could be in a situation like ours. If that’s the case, we could try to convince them that we have a common goal and it’s in our best interests to cooperate." 

“Thank you, lieutenant,” Sulu said. It was a lot to take in. He’d been acting captain before, but the face of the entire Federation? Third time in the chair, and he might make first contact. Huh.

"Well." Chekov turned around. "Keptin Kirk did say he wanted to ‘have fun’ this morning."

Surprise, surprise. It only took a few days or even hours for the Captain to go stir crazy. It was just important to note that his definition of fun usually involved at least two emergencies.

_Beep._

Sulu looked down. _Eng_ was flashing bright yellow.

"Sulu here."

"I’ve done it! I've got a rough location on them,” Scott huffed, “but I cannae beam them up just yet, we could beam down but, uh...”

“Yes, Mr. Scott, that’s fine. But it looks like we’ve got a welcoming party soon, so pick up the pace.” He said sharply, “I want the away team back up here in fifteen minutes at the least.”

“Alright, alright! No need to get bossy now. Sit your bum in the chair for a half an hour and you own the universe. Think you know somebody…”

“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” Sulu replied, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah.” The light flicked off.

Sulu had made enough threats before. Perhaps it was time to test his diplomacy skills.

“Uhura, can we communicate with them?”

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to put them on screen,” Uhura hesitated, “but yes. We should be able to reach them.”

Sulu nodded.

“When they’re in range, Hail them.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's up y'all! hoping to update this about every two to three weeks. 
> 
> <3 all of you!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome! So, my first chapter fic. Still pretty nervous about it even though I started a while ago. This was on FF before, and some people recommended I move here instead so we'll see how this works out. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated. I've got pretty extensive plans for this and a few other things that may or may not be realized but it'll be fun. The title is taken from the Emily Dickinson poem by the same name.


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